The Day After
by Lady Bee
Summary: This is the morning after and my fallow soul lies waiting. AU-Modern days.


_**So many people see you  
But no-one sees you like I do  
For in the shadow of your light  
Far away I sit and wait**_

_**I need you - I need your light  
For from the shade I can't escape  
You see me not - you know me not  
But yet I love you from afar  
Esteem you - worship you  
Hope for you - desire you  
Sense you - experience you  
Accompany you - exalt you  
Can't go on without you**_

Frankfurt was gray once more. Winter was coming and it would be a harsh one. Mornings were briskly and the wind by the Main was chilly. He couldn't care less about the weather, nor could he bring himself to avoid that sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach. Jumping into the freezing water seemed a reasonable solution at the moment, but he hasn't been reasonable for quite a long time now.

He sat by the riverside and looked to the gray sky. Her eyes were as gray as the water and the sky. Once more he felt nauseated. He shouldn't think about it.

_It had always been like that? _ He wondered about that question for a while and got no answer. He assumed he was sick somehow. Maybe he was depressed and what he did was a mere consequence of his disease. Or maybe he was getting mad.

He closed his eyes and cried in silence. It had being quite a while since the last time he allowed himself such an emotional reaction. _"I must be mad." _ That was the only explanation he found.

"_I was drunk and dizzy. She was drunk too. It was an accident." _He kept saying it in a low voice as if it was a pray. Maybe if he repeated it long enough it would become true. Maybe he could believe it.

Truth be told, drunkenness was a lame excuse for any kind of mistake. He knew what he was doing and he knew it was wrong but he did it anyway. Theon would say that a mistake committed during the alcohol effect was nothing but a repressed desire in a sober state. Jon was inclined to believe that Greyjoy had some reason in the matter.

Her hands and mouth were all the reasons he needed to lose his grip and common sense. Jon took a deep breath. The soft creamy flesh of her neck was a silent invitation, one he couldn't resist for long. Her fingertips on his lips, her voice calling his name in the darkness. He sold his soul to the devil and sealed the pact with blood.

Who he was trying to fool? He always wanted that. Maybe not wanted but he surely fantasized about it long enough to feel guilty. The scary part was to realize that he would do it all again. He would have done anything for that chance.

She was his sister and he…

Jon got up of the sit and walked along the riverside struggling against the suicidal feeling. For a moment he thought he would throw up. His sweat was cold against his skin and his hands shaking. Was it lust, perversion, or revenge against the world? He couldn't tell. He couldn't find it displeasing even when the whole world would condemn him if it ever became public.

Arya had always been the only one who really cared about him. The one with smiles and hugs meant for him. His sweet sister…

He ruined her.

"_She needed me and I betrayed her trust. All she wanted last night was her big brother not this monster that I've become." _His thoughts kept the darkest path and his desires were still unsettled even when Jon couldn't find any excuse for his behavior; nothing that could set his mind at peace.

She nocked at his door late at night with her hair wild and her eyes puffy. She had been crying and he got furious as soon as she told what had happened. That bullheaded bastard, that brute called Gendry.

Jon never liked the boy even when he was nothing but Arya's friend. Then she started dating him and Jon couldn't simply avoid that striking urgency of bit the hell out of that asshole. Arya was his to care for. She was his little sister, his darling and no one should touch what belonged to him. That thought alone should be an alert to him but Jon never realized how that sounded off.

He was jealous and after what she said Jon had all the reasons to be.

"_He tried to force me when I said no."_ She told between sobs. Arya wasn't the kind of girl who would weep for anything. For her to get so frightened it had to be a hell of a motive and so it was.

Generally Jon tried to avoid his little sister's private affairs. Her sexual life wasn't of his concerns and he wanted to spare himself the trauma. She told him anyway. She had been waiting for the right moment and the right guy. Gendry Baratheon didn't fit the role.

Jon thought about a violent murder. He thought about castration and torture. Gendry shouldn't live after what he tried to do with Arya and Jon would never allow him to get near her again.

"_Don't tell anyone! Please, Jon!"_ It was what she said when he urged her to go to the police. She was tired and frightened. All she wanted was to feel secure so she ran to his apartment, to the arms of the only man she knew that would never harm her.

He felt someone touch his shoulder.

**This is the morning after****  
****And my fallow soul lies waiting****  
****This...****  
****A new day is beginning****  
****And time is tricking away****  
**

"I knew you would be here." Once more he felt the pang in his stomach. Her voice was serene and controlled. "I suppose we need to talk." He took a deep breath. He couldn't look at her. Not yet. Not when he felt so sick and so desperate to hug her again.

"Not here. Someone can hear and it would be a problem." He said lowering his head to avoid eye contact.

"We can go back to your apartment then." That was an awful idea. He couldn't trust his self-control while they were alone in his apartment, but it was still the best place for some privacy.

He agreed and they went back to his place. The city was quiet. It was a cold Sunday morning and nobody seemed eager to leave the comfort of a warm bed so early. When they got to the apartment, Jon went straightly to the kitchen to prepare some tea.

Arya sat at the table and waited until he served her a cup of tea. Jon sipped his own drink before she could start talking.

"I washed the sheets." She said bluntly. Jon closed his eyes feeling nauseated. He had tried to avoid the red stain in the sheets and between her legs when he left. "Are you mad at me?"

"No! Of course not. Why would I be mad at you?" He said. _Not mad at you, but maybe mad for you._ His mind insisted.

"Then why you left? Have I done something wrong?" She got to be joking. Something wrong was an understanding for what they have done.

"I left because I needed to think about what happened. Look at you sleeping naked in my arms wasn't helping." He said siting before her. "I wish I knew what to say to you. I wish I had come up with some excuse for what I did to you but I have nothing to say. I will understand if you call the police or even if you say that you never want to see me again."

"What makes you think that I want to send you to prison or even want to avoid you? Jon, it's me. I'm still the same Arya."

"And this is precisely what puts you in danger whenever you get near me!" He said angrily. "I can't…" He hit the table with his cup making a loud sound. "I can't trust myself when you are near. Not anymore. Not after last night."  
"Nonsense." She said in a whisper.

"Nonsense?" He answered in disbelief. "Arya… Do you have any idea of what happened last night?!"

"WE FUCKED! So what?!" She shouted at him.

"We are brother and sister!" He answered in a controlled tone. His anger was boiling under his skin but Jon wasn't sure about if he was angry with Arya, or if he was angry with himself for what happened. He could feel the urge to kiss her there and then; he could feel the need for an intimate touch and the guilty for all his sick wishes. "I don't know what possessed me last night. I don't know why I did it… I must be mad! I must be some sort of monster and you should run from me not toward me." Jon said at last.

"Well, I know who possessed me. You are not a monster." She said walking to where he was sited. Arya touched his face tenderly and Jon closed his eyes to avoid her. Her fingertips on his temples, her palm against his beard, her scent mixed with lemon tea and mint. All of it made his heart race and his judgment cloud. She always had him in her hands with nearly no effort.

"You don't know what you are saying." He answered trying to pull her hands away from him. "You came here in a moment of distress and fragility after what Gendry tried to do. You wanted to feel secure and what I did make me as bad as that asshole!" And this very thought made him even more disgusted. Not that he would ever feel at peace knowing what happened between him and his sister, but he could have spared himself more regret.

"Never!" She said with fervor, ignoring his gestures to avoid any physical contact. She hugged him tight and clawed his back covered by his shirt. Arya sounded nearly desperate and that didn't sound like her at all. She was the fierce one. She never seemed afraid or in despair. "You are not like him."

"So tell me how can I be different from him?" Jon asked opening his eyes. They shared the same Stark features. The long and stern face, the same gray eyes and dark hair. They could pass as twins if they had the same age. Arya looked at him and caressed his hair tenderly. Her hands were delicate and small. She was skinny and short. In his arms she looked like some awkward doll.

"I trust you entirely." She said. "I know that we love each other in a way nobody will ever understand." She lowered her body getting her lips near to his. "You will never hurt or scary me like he did."

"We share the same blood." He said feeling her breath mixed with his own. Her lips were so close that he couldn't resist the urgency of kissing her again. He got her face in his hands to feel the luxuriating texture of her pale skin. Her dark hair falling over her shoulders; her mouth almost touching his own mouth. That was the perfect metaphor for what they had. _Close enough to touch and yet never allowed to do so._

"Yes. We share the same blood..." She said rubbing her lips against his but not kissing him. "I dare say…We share more than only blood."

"Why do you torment me?" He said getting her lips closer to his. "If you want to drive me crazy you could only ask instead of torture me to madness."

"And miss all the fun?" She sat over his lap and threw her arms around his neck. "No, Jon. I won't leave you alone in your poor mental state." He could feel his cock hardening at the contact. Arya didn't bother to complain or to comment his excitement. If anything, she seemed rather interested in his body reactions to take the best of him.

"What do you want from me?" He asked in despair. His eyes were red and his hands were shaking. Arya never turned her face or avoided his touch. Her breath smelled of toothpaste and lemon tea when their lips touched again.

She unbuttoned her shirt slowly while her eyes stared at him. Jon's mouth felt open and he could barely believe in what she was doing. Soon her shirt was at the floor. Her breasts were small and firm. _"Perfect to touch and accommodate my hands."_ She read it all over his facial expression. She got rid of her bra letting her breasts bear for him to touch and taste.

Jon covered her breasts with his own hands and kissed both carefully. His mind kept arguing with his feelings but Jon concluded that it might be the last chance for his real feelings for her run free. Her fingers were at his hair and nape. It was an exquisite sensation, one between urgency and delight. Arya moaned lightly when Jon sucked one of her hard nipples.

Eventually he stopped kissing her breasts and neck. Arya rested her head on his shoulders and kissed his face. His fingers drew invisible lines on her naked back, making her shiver. The desire and the lust were still there, lurking in the darkest corner of his mind but he managed to get a grip over his actions.

"You don't want me, do you?" She asked shyly. Jon kissed her forehead in answer.

"I don't know how to deal with this." He confessed with a certain amount of angst. He stroked her hair dearly and kissed her mouth once more. "I shouldn't feel this way…We shouldn't want it."

_**All of this I write to you**__**  
**__**And still more would I say**__**  
**__**If I could put down into love**__**  
**__**All the suffering of my love**__**  
**__**Not the message to lament**__**  
**__**These few lines to you I send**__**  
**__**But Just to say - I love you**__**  
**_

Arya didn't say anything. She unbuttoned his shirt instead, leaving his upper body bare to her touch. Hands had a silent conversation while exploring carefully the naked bodies. They didn't do much than touch each other with tenderness and care. Few kisses were exchanged and it feels more intimate than any night spent in love making.

His mouth was gentle while he kissed her skin. Jon could feel her heart beating while he kissed her neck and took her in his arms to sit her on the table. It was wrong in so many ways he couldn't even count or care. Arya never retreated, that was her game as much as his. Even though he was the one to take her virginity about twelve hours ago, she seemed much more secure in her actions than he, who was supposed to be the experienced one.

Her legs were spread for him and there was nothing under her skirt than the moisture and the heat. Jon touched her; throwing his morals and conscience thru the window. She moaned lowly; she threw her head back while she tried to support her body using her hands. She shivered when he rubbed her clit and grabbed her by the leg to adjust the angle. Arya closed her eyes and that bothered him to no end. If he was to commit that ultimate sin, than she would be open eyed and absolutely conscientious about it.

"Open your eyes." He demanded in a husky voice. She obeyed without excitation, but to keep her eyes open was harder than she expected when his fingers were dancing inside her.

Her mouth fell open when Jon rubbed her clit more violently. Her body convulsed at his touch and she cried out in pleasure. Her voice shouldn't be so appealing or her touches so needed. When she recovered from the orgasm her hands took care of his belt and pants, freeing his stiff cock. She touched him and Jon nearly lost it as if he was a teenage boy.

"You better sit on the chair." She said. Her voice was obscured with lust and sin. That voice didn't belong to his baby sister, or to any teenage girl. That wasn't Arya, or at least what he remembered of her. No. That was not the same girl he knew since infancy. That was what he made of her. She was his creature, not his sister.

He obeyed for he was never able to do otherwise when she asked. He sat on the chair again, his cock hard as an iron bar, throbbing and begging for relief. Arya came to him, sitting over his lap with her legs spread. One leg at each side of his body, almost allowing him to feel how wet she was.

Her hand guided his cock inside her moisture womanhood. Jon never turned his face or closed his eyes while she did it. He recorded ever single facial expression she made while receiving him whole inside her. It hurt; he could tell when she bitted her inferior lip. She was still too tight to accommodate him and feel comfortable about it.

He gave her time and did his best to not lose his control when she tried to find her way to pleasure. His hands rested at the small of her back when Arya started to move her hips sinuously. Maybe the alcohol made her more relaxed the night before, or maybe he didn't noticed how long it took to the pain to become pleasure. She was making it slowly. She was torturing him to madness. Her arms were around his neck and shoulder to give her stability, while his arms pulled her back by the waist, forcing his cock deeper inside of her.

Little by little her movements became more fluid and agile. Her cries of pain became cries of pleasure and Jon felt comfortable to kiss her everywhere while she danced her way to another orgasm. She came first, tightening around him again. He had to move his own hips, trusting inside of her and grabbing her by the waist again and again to reach his own release.

He came deep inside her; to the hell with consequences. If he was a sinner now than his sin would be complete. She rested her head on his shoulder. They remained in silence for long minutes after that.

At some point she felt asleep in his arms with him still inside of her. He stroked her hair for a while and muttered some random song. He wasn't a singer, he wasn't many things, but since childhood he would be anything she wanted him to be; even her lover.

What a mess they have made. Arya didn't seem to care a single bit about any moral issue, nor public opinion. Jon wondered if she was simply brave, or if she really didn't understand the consequences. He hugged her tighter feeling his heart heavy with both guilty and love.

They share the same blood and the same sin it would seem…

He thought about history and how Pharaohs would marry their sisters to avoid conflict and to keep the royal power concentrated in the same family. He thought about the nasty rumors involving the Borgia family and how Cesare killed his sister husband while driven by jealousy. It wasn't hard to understand. Not after what they did. He would gladly kill Gendry if Arya asked him to do so and even before the bullheaded tried to force her.

His sister…

He wasn't a Borgia. He wasn't even a Stark, not in name at least. He was simply Jon Snow, a lucky bastard with a father decent enough to face the consequences of his acts.

He loved his family well, though. Robb was always his best friend and Bran was a sweet boy who locked at him for an example. Rickon was a darling boy, barely a toddler. Sansa was civil toward him, and nothing more. What Jon couldn't understand was why his feelings for Arya were always so different.

They shared secrets and had a sort of connection that nobody could really understand. Her cries would always make him desperate and her smiles soothe his worries. She was always his favorite, his darling girl with sharp mind and tongue.

Jon took her in his arms and carried her back to the bedroom; ignoring his own nudity. He watched her sleep in his bed for a while. Was it lust or fear of rejection? Was it love or loneliness the feeling that guided him in to her arms? He would never be sure.

He lay near her staring at the roof. Nothing would ever prepare him for such situation. He was in love with the only human being he could never have and still it fell so right. Her warmth eased his tormented mind. Her kisses put his heart at ease. For them love was a bit of a bliss and a bit of a curse to be endured. Nobody ever told that love was an easy thing. I fact, the truth about love was that it would always leave that bitter taste in the tongue. It was a battle with no victory and no hero. No matter how much he loved her, Jon was certain that he would make her suffer somehow. He was certain that Arya would do just the same to him.

What was left for them now that all was said and done? Turn their backs and pretend that nothing ever happened was highly unlikely to happen. He would never accept her to be with someone else. He would never share another women's bed without thinking about her. In Germany it was a crime. There was no place in the world for them, nowhere to go without the risk of recrimination.

"I can see the wheels turning inside your head and the steam escaping from your ears." Her voice sounded lazy and languid. Arya was looking at him once more, offering nothing but a sympathetic smile. "You know… You are so obvious some times."

"It's not as if I could ignore what happened." He said seriously. "I have no idea about what to do now."

"Don't do anything then." She answered with a practical tone.

"It's just a game to you, isn't it? Sometimes I ignore that you can be absurdly cruel."

"How am I being cruel to you?" She teased while she sat over his abdomen.

He remained in silence while she drew invisible lines on his naked breast. Jon wondered if it was just the curiosity or fear which leaded her to his arms, or if it was possible that Arya had feeling for him.

She seemed naïve and mischievous while teasing him the way she did. She begged for more after all.

"I love you." His confession came out almost by accident. "And this love has nothing to do with fraternity." Her face was absolutely serene while he spoke. Arya seemed some kind of deity in her glorious nudity, looking at her devotee with pity.

"What makes you think that I feel any different?" It was her way to tell him about her love. She was never clear about her feelings.

"Again. What should we do about it?" He asked while caressing her face.

"You should do me again and again until we both forget our blood ties. Or maybe we should live a day at time. Live, love, fuck and conquer the world a day at time."

"What if you get pregnant? What if anyone find out? What if everything that can go wrong actually go wrong?" He asked with a bit of despair.

"Every man must die and every man must live." Her answer was pronounced with a wisdom he never contemplated. "If the worst happens, we'll learn how to deal with it. If nothing happens, then we'll enjoy ourselves as much as we can. We could run away and look for a place where it isn't a crime." It was when he noticed that her eyes had tears . "I don't know, Jon. I just don't want to lose you."

"You won't." His voice sounded peaceful for a change while Jon caressed her face and whipped out her tears. "If we die, we die; but first we'll live no matter how, no matter where."

_**Tonight these words will come to you**__**  
**__**I pray that you will read them through**__**  
**__**I'll wait for you at day's first light**__**  
**__**Wait to see your radiant light**__**  
**__**I dream that you will see me soon**__**  
**__**That you will kneel into the gloom**__**  
**__**And raise me to you in the light**__**  
**_

**Author's Note: When I wrote La Lune S'Ent Fout, I thought about writing a one-shot about Jon and Arya in another 2 different cities, being my first choice Frankfurt. I loved the few days I've spent in Germany and this is a place I want to return one day. Lovely people, lovely sights and lovely beer (which I haven't enjoy much at the time). Unfortunately, when I visited the city the day was grey, cold, and it was raining lightly and it may have influenced the mood in this work. Despite the cold rainy weather, Frankfurt is a lovely, charming and delightful city. I chose the song Der Morgen Danach, by Lacrimosa. I hope you enjoy it.**

**Bee **


End file.
